Part I Part 82 (1/2)

I stared at her, waved my hand in front of her eyes. Snapped my fingers. She didn't respond.

I sighed and stood up, then tested the door again. It was firmly bolted shut from the other side. I couldn't move it.

”Super.” I sighed. ”That's great. I'm never going to get out of here.”

Behind me, something whispered. I spun, putting the door at my back, searching for the source of the sound.

A low mist crept out of the wall, a smoky, slithery ma.s.s that whirled itself down onto the floor like ethereal lace. The mist touched lightly at my blood on the floor where I'd thrown up, and then began to swirl and shape itself into something vaguely human.

”Great,” I muttered. ”More ghosts. If I get out of this alive, I've got to get a new job.”

The ghost took shape before me, very slowly, very translucently. It resolved itself into the form of a young woman, attractive, dressed like an efficient secretary. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, but for a few appealing tendrils that fell down to frame her cheeks. Her ghostly wrist was crusted with congealed blood, spread around a pair of fang-punctures. Abruptly, I recognized her, the girl Bianca had fed upon until she died.

”Rachel,” I whispered. ”Rachel, is that you?”

As I spoke her name, she turned to me, her eyes slowly focusing on me, as though beholding me through a misty veil. Her expression turned, no pun intended, grave. She nodded to me in recognition.

”h.e.l.l's bells,” I whispered. ”No wonder Bianca got stuck on a vengeance kick. She literally was haunted by your death.”

The spirit's face twisted in distress. She said something, but I could hear it only as a distant, m.u.f.fled sound accompanying the movement of her lips.

”I can't understand you,” I said. ”Rachel, I can't hear you.”

She almost wept, it seemed. She pressed her hand to her ghostly breast, and grimaced at me.

”You're hurt?” I guessed. ”You hurt?”

She shook her head. Then touched her temple and drew her fingers slowly down over her eyes, closing them. ”Ah,” I said. ”You're tired.”

She nodded. She made a supplicating motion, holding out her hands as though asking for help.

”I don't know what I can do for you. I don't know if I can help you rest or not.”

She shook her head again. Then she nodded, toward the door, and made a bottle-shaped curving gesture of her hands.

”Bianca?” I asked. When she nodded, I went on. ”You think Bianca can lay you to rest.” She shook her head. ”She's keeping you here?”

Rachel nodded, her ghostly, pretty face agonized.

”Makes sense,” I muttered. ”Bianca fixates on you as you die tragically. Binds your ghost here. The ghost appears to her and drives her into a vengeance, and she blames it all on me.”

Rachel's ghost nodded.

”I didn't kill you,” I said. ”You know that.”

She nodded again.

”But I'm sorry. I'm sorry that me being in the wrong place at the wrong time set you up to die.”

She gave me a gentle smile-which transformed into a sudden expression of horror. She looked past me, at Justine, and then her image began to fade, to withdraw into the wall.

”Hey!” I said. ”Hey, wait a minute!”

The mist vanished, and Justine started to move. She rose, casually, and stretched. Then glanced down at herself and ran her hands appreciatively down over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her stomach. ”Very nice,” she said, voice subtly altered, different. ”Rather like Lydia, in a lot of ways, isn't she, Mister Dresden.”

I tensed up. ”Kravos,” I whispered.

Justine's eyes flooded with blood through the whites. ”Oh yes,” she said. ”Yes indeed.”

”Man, you need to get a life in the worst way. That was you, wasn't it. The telephone call the night Agatha Hagglethorn went nuts.”

”My last call,” Kravos said through Justine's lips, nodding. ”I wanted to savor what was about to happen. Like now. Bianca has ordered that you should receive no visitors, but I just couldn't resist the chance to take a look at you.”

”You want to look at me?” I asked. I tapped my head. ”Come on in. There's a few things in here I'd like to show you.”

Justine smiled, and shook her head. ”It would be too much effort for too little return. Even without the shelter of a threshold, possessing even a mind so weak as this child's requires a considerable amount of effort. Effort,” she added, ”which was made possible by a grant from the Harry Dresden Soul Foundation.”

I bared my teeth. ”Leave the girl alone.”

”Oh, but she's fine,” Kravos said, through Justine's lips. ”She's really happier like this. She can't hurt anyone, you see. Or herself. Her ranting emotions can't compel her to act. That's why the Whites love her so much. They feed on emotion, and this little darling is positively mad with it.” Justine's body s.h.i.+vered, and arched sensuously. ”It's rather exciting, actually. Madness.”

”I wouldn't know,” I said. ”Look, if we're going to fight, let's fight. Otherwise, blow. I've got things to do.”

”I know,” Justine said. ”You're busy dying of some kind of poisoning. The vampires tried to drink from you, but you made some of them very sick, and so they left you more or less untapped. Highly miffed, Bianca was. She wanted you to die as food for her and her new children.”

”What a shame.”

”Come now, Dresden. You and I are among the Wise. We both know you wouldn't want to die at the hands of a lesser being.”

”I might rank among the wise,” I said. ”You, Kravos, are nothing but a two-bit troublemaker. You're the stupid thug of wizard land, and that you managed to live as long as you did without killing yourself is some kind of miracle in itself.”

Justine snarled and lunged for me. She pinned me to the door with one hand and a casual, supernatural strength that told me she could have pushed her hand through through me just as easily. ”So self-righteous,” she snarled. ”Always sure that you're right. That you're in command. That you have all the power and all the answers.” me just as easily. ”So self-righteous,” she snarled. ”Always sure that you're right. That you're in command. That you have all the power and all the answers.”

I grimaced. Pain flared through my belly again, and it was suddenly all I could do not to scream.

”Well, Dresden. You're dead. You've been slated to die. You'll be gone in the next few hours. And even if you aren't, if you live through what they have planned, the poison will kill you slowly. And before you go you'll sleep. Bianca won't stop me, this time. You'll sleep and I'll be there. I'll come into your dreams and I will make your last moments on earth a nightmare that lasts for years.” She leaned up close, standing on tiptoe, and spat into my face. Then the blood rushed from Justine's eyes and her head fell loosely forward, as though she'd been a horse struggling against the reins, to find their pressure gone. Justine let out a whimper, and sank against me.

I did my best to hold her. We sort of wound up on the floor together, neither one of us in much shape to move. Justine wept. She cried piteously, like a small child, mostly quiet.

”I'm sorry,” she said. ”I'm sorry. I want to help. But there's too much in the way. I can't think-”

”Shhhhh,” I said. I tried to stroke her hair, to soothe her before she could become agitated again. ”It's going to be all right.”

”We'll die,” she whispered. ”I'll never see him again.”

She wept for some time, as the nausea and pain in my belly grew. The light outside the door never wavered. It didn't know if it was dark or light outside. Or if Thomas and Michael were still alive to come after me. If they were gone, and it was my fault, I'd never be able to live with myself in any case.

I decided that it must be night. It must be fullest, darkest night. No other time of day could possibly suit my predicament.